


Growl

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealousy, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Park Chanyeol has a growl to be reckoned with.





	Growl

It had started first with the tiniest glances, the most subtle glares, the threats issued the second you left the room. Then, it had progressed to shoving-against-walls, threatening yells, fist-fights-- you name it, you'd seen it. You didn't know what was wrong with him, and you didn't know how to get Park Chanyeol to stop.

The two of you had been friends since freshman year. You'd sort of naturally drifted into his group after, one day, he'd saved you from being bullied in the cafeteria. You loved being with Chanyeol's friends, and you loved being with him, too. (That is, when he wasn't beating up every single boy you knew.) He hadn't always been like this. It was sometime around sophomore year that the glares and threats had started, and it had only snow-balled from there. Now, every single boy in the school was too scared to approach you, or else they would face Park Chanyeol's legendary wrath.

It was kind of annoying, to say the least. You'd brought it up to him several times when he'd slept over at your house, but he'd only shaken his head and said that boys were no good.

"Even you?" You'd asked playfully.

"Even me," he'd said.

Well, be that as it may, you were about to graduate and you'd never been kissed. How could you have been, when Chanyeol had scared away all of your potential suitors? Every boy that wasn't in Chanyeol's friend group was too terrified to approach you, and why shouldn't they be? Maybe they'd heard what had happened to the one kid who'd tried to ask you to junior prom (they still couldn't get the dent out of the locker), or maybe they'd even heard about the one time a boy had wolf-whistled when your skirt had blown up in the breeze (they'd never be able to get the blood stain out of the wood floor). No way in hell would you have bothered with yourself if you were a boy. I mean, you weren't anything special. Sometimes you wondered why Chanyeol was your friend in the first place.

He was everything you weren't. Gorgeous, tough, smart. Charming. You were the bumbling Robin next to his Batman when all you really wanted to be was the Harley to his Joker.

Okay, so maybe (definitely) you could do without the Jarley dysfunction, but the point still stood. You wanted him, _wanted_ him to be yours. You'd had the hugest crush on him for as long as you could remember, ever since he'd shoved the boy harassing you for your phone number against the wall freshman year.

"She's with me," he'd growled. "Beat it."

 _She's with me._ Yeah, right. As if you should be so lucky.

"Move over," he grumbled as he arrived at the lunch table, prompting you to scoot over so he could sit next to you. You noticed that he didn't have a lunch.

"Aren't you hungry?" You asked with concern. Growing boys seemed to need more food than you could even fathom. He couldn't be skipping lunch, could he? Maybe he'd already eaten.

"Not hungry," Chanyeol muttered, and he looked around the cafeteria with narrowed eyes. You could practically see the death beam shooting from his irises and felt bad for whoever he was searching for.

On the seat opposite of you, Chanyeol's friend Jongdae snorted.

"He's not eating because he's preparing to beat some faces in," he said.

"You're _not_ ," you said, turning to Chanyeol accusatorially, but he didn't answer.

"Haven't you heard?" Jongdae continued. "It's prom season."

"So?" You doubted anyone would be stupid enough to risk Chanyeol's wrath for you, although you secretly hoped someone would. Maybe that would be the grand gesture you needed to get over him.

Instead of answering, Jongdae pointed. You squinted to see what he was pointing at, and you gasped in horror when you saw who it was.

Junior prom boy. The one whose likeness was still smashed into a pair of second-floor lockers. And he was coming straight for you.

"What is he _doing?"_ You hissed, and you tried to get up to dispel him before Chanyeol could literally kill him, but Chanyeol grabbed your arm.

"You're not going anywhere" was all he said, and he forced you to sit back down. You looked to Jongdae-- and the rest of the group-- for help, but they were all either preoccupied waiting for the shit to hit the fan or conveniently ignoring you. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands in another way. You locked your eyes on the boy-- Justin, you thought his name was-- and tried to give death daggers like the ones Chanyeol flashed so easily. You wanted to look as intimidating as possible to scare him away before Chanyeol had a chance to break his nose, but you were pretty sure you just looked constipated.

"Chanyeol--"

"Shut up," he said. Okay, now he was just being unreasonable. You sat and fumed as poor Justin made his way over to you, flinching when he saw the expression on Chanyeol's face. He glanced around the cafeteria (which was filled with people who were staring at the three of you, of course), as if he thought perhaps Chanyeol wouldn't attack him with so many witnesses.

Clearly, he didn't know Chanyeol very well.

"Y/N." Justin sounded nervous, as he damn well should.

"What do you want?" Chanyeol spat out on your behalf, even though you sincerely didn't want him to. You sincerely wished he would go fuck off, is what you sincerely wished.

Justin tried not to flinch again. "Can I t-talk to Y/N?"

You tried to stand up, saying, "Yes" in the most gracious voice you could muster at the same time that Chanyeol said, "No." He grabbed your arm again and forced you back down. You resisted the urge to punch him. Seriously, _what was his problem?_

"Sorry Justin, what's up?" You said, peeking around Chanyeol at the frightened boy. You felt bad for him. He must really like you, to risk getting beat up again just to talk to you.

"Well--" He was finding it very hard to look away from Chanyeol's death glare, it seemed. "I was just wondering--"

"No." Chanyeol's deep voice was very final, so final that you almost felt that the matter had been closed even though Justin hadn't asked his question yet.

You shook your head. "Ignore him, Justin. What was it?"

Justin looked at you like you were insane to say 'ignore him' about Chanyeol, like you were tempting fate too, but you knew that was ridiculous. As violent as your best friend could get, he had never raised a hand at you, and you knew implicitly he never would. Chanyeol was _not_ the type of guy to hit a girl.

Justin eyed Chanyeol, like he thought the boy might launch at him any second. "I was just wondering... if you're going to prom?"

He _was_ trying to ask you to prom! Your brief burst of delight and flattery at being asked was squashed by the growl Chanyeol made.

"I was thinking about it, yeah," you said hurriedly. You smiled up at Justin-- someone was asking you out! _You_!-- and he stammered, "I was w-wondering if maybe you'd be willing to g-go with m--"

"I said _no._ " Chanyeol spat out, his eyes glaring up at Justin. Even though he was the one standing, Justin had never looked so small to you. Maybe that was why you were so surprised when he seemingly snapped.

"Why don't you let the girl decide something for herself for once?" He demanded. Across from you, you heard Jongdae inhale sharply. _Oh no. Now he's done it,_ you thought. "Maybe she'd like to go out on a date every once in a--"

"She _does_ go out on dates." Chanyeol rose, and he towered over the boy, who was once again cowed and tinier than ever. You hurried to stand next to them, ready to wedge yourself in between them should the punches start flying. You saw Chanyeol smirk and say, "She goes out on dates with me."

Justin's eyes widened. "You're her--?"

"Her boyfriend? Yeah." Chanyeol leered. "And _we_ don't know if we'll make it to prom. I might just stay home and fuck her brains out all night instead."

_Oh. My. God._

You saw Jongdae rise out of the corner of your eye. "Chanyeol..." He started, but something in the way Chanyeol stood stopped him. You were pretty sure you were having heart palpitations by then.

"But," Chanyeol continued, "if we _do_ show up, I'll make sure we say hi. Alright?"

Justin didn't seem capable of saying anything.

"I said _alright._ " Chanyeol's voice was raising. He looked around at all of the people staring at the three of you, gaping, some even filming the scene on hastily hidden phones. "You hear that?" He called into the cafeteria, which was absolutely silent. "Y/N's mine." Your heart stopped beating entirely. "Stay the fuck away from her."

Then, with one last sneer at Justin (who looked shell-shocked), Chanyeol dragged you by the arm out of the cafeteria.

You wanted to be happy about it, you really did. You wanted to pretend as if he was serious when he said those things-- when he said that you were his girl, that you were his and only his. But you knew your friend better than that, so as he dragged you down the halls, you just got madder and madder. When he finally brought you out into the back parking lot, you exploded.

"What the _hell_ , Chanyeol?!" You demanded. "What the _hell_ \--"

"I should be asking you that," he snapped, releasing your arm. But he didn't step back. If anything, he got closer. "When are you going to understand that boys like that only want one thing?"

 _Oh my fucking GOD._ You were so _tired_ of this speech! "And what is that, exactly?" You narrowed your eyes. "To fuck my brains out?"

Chanyeol looked away from you, cursing. "Someday, Y/N, you're going to fucking realize how goddamn pretty you are." He didn't say it like a compliment. He glared at the cars, stationary and gleaming in the spring sun. "People want to take advantage of you. And I'm not going to fucking let them."

You clenched your jaw. "It's not your job--"

"Like _hell_ it isn't!" He looked back at you, his eyes on fire. "Do you remember _anything_? If it hadn't been for me, you would have been someone's one night stand by October of your freshman year!"

Your stared at him in disbelief. "You're an _asshole."_

You went to leave, but he grabbed your hand. "Y/N-- don't--"

"Why do you care?" You demanded, whirling around, tears brimming in your eyes. He winced at the sight. "Huh? I'm just your friend, okay? Just your stupid goddamn friend."

Chanyeol didn't seem to know what to say. The two of you stood in that horrible silence for several moments before he shook his head and pulled you in for a strong hug. Caught off guard, you felt the air _whoosh_ out of your chest before you reciprocated. "I'm sorry," he said into your hair. "I mean," he pulled back and looked you in the eye, "I'm not sorry about threatening everyone. And beating them up. And..." You'd raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sorry that I upset you. I never want to upset you. Do you hate me?"

You almost wanted to laugh, because he was actually serious. You? Hate _him?_ "How could I ever hate you, you idiot," you murmured, and you shook your own head before hugging him again. "I just want to go on dates. Is that so bad? And I want to go to prom with a boy."

Chanyeol said nothing at first, just allowed you to hug him and then release him. You started to blush, thinking that he hadn't liked the hug, but you saw him looking at you with a strange look in his eyes.

"Come to prom with me, then," he said simply. Your heart skipped several beats again. "I already said we were together, didn't I? We can go as friends, not that anyone will know the difference. I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman." He cracked a winning smile.

At that, you wanted to snort, but you were a little too torn up to laugh at his humor. On one hand, the one boy you'd wanted to go with had asked you to prom. On the other hand, it was just...

"As friends?" You hoped you sounded unsure rather than disappointed.

Chanyeol nodded.

You let out a breath. _It's the best you're ever gonna get,_ you told yourself, and you knew you were right. So you nodded. "Alright, then. But you're buying me a corsage."

With a laugh, he opened the door for the two of you to go back inside of the school building. Lunch had to be ending soon. Then, it was eighth period, and all of the gossip that the scene in the cafeteria entailed. Your stomach jolted as you realized: for all intents and purposes, you were now publicly Park Chanyeol's girlfriend.

You didn't know whether to laugh or to scream.

The weeks between then and prom went by in flashes of boys skirting away from you, terrified, in the halls, girls glaring at you, jealous, in classes, and teachers approaching you with concern over your 'lifestyle choices.' Chanyeol thought it was hysterical that everyone was so affected by the your fictitious relationship. "What the _fuck_ ," was what he'd say whenever you relayed a story to him, and then he'd burst into laughter. And that would be it. There would be no more mention of the fact that everyone thought you were his little sex kitten, that everyone thought the two of you were playing tonsil tennis every night.

No, Chanyeol did not seem affected by what he'd led people to believe, nor did he seem changed by the fact that the two of you were going to prom together. You'd _hoped_ that maybe, like in the movies, he'd slowly come to realize his feelings for you, but things weren't looking great.

Jongdae, however, seemed to grow more concerned the closer and closer it got to prom.

"Break up with him," he'd said on multiple occasions, despite him knowing that the two of you weren't actually dating.

"Why?" You were baffled. Was it the rumors? Because, really, you could take those. You were tough as nails, and besides, no one wanted to start anything too nasty, because they were terrified your "boyfriend" would turn them into the next big locker-dent or blood-stain on campus.

Jongdae had never given you an answer.

But tonight, you didn't care. Tonight was the night. It was finally fucking here.

You tried to tell yourself that you weren’t going to do your hair or makeup in any special way just because you were heading out with _him_ , but that was a bloody lie. You spent far too many minutes carefully applying mascara to your upper eyelashes alone. And forget your hair. There was no way you were wearing your usual disaster with a dress so pretty and a boy you liked to see you in it. You had to straighten it.

So _that_ took forever too. But, you had to admit as you stared at yourself, regular clothes but hair and makeup done to the nines, you looked pretty great. That just left your prom dress, a tight, corseted number your mother had insisted you get because "it brings out your eyes." (It brings out a lot more than that, mom.) You'd tried it on before, of course, so you knew that it fit, but...

What if he thought you looked stupid in it?

You shook your head at yourself. You liked Chanyeol a lot, but no way were you letting what a boy thought of you affect you _that_ much. He'd either think you looked stupid, or he wouldn't. You happened to like the dress. A little less when it was on you, but that couldn't be helped, could it?

Just as you finished slipping on your flats, your doorbell rang.

You tried to pretend your heart wasn’t flip-flopping around in your chest at the thought of Chanyeol dressed up, but you were really bad at pretending, even in your own head. You took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror-- not to check your makeup again, but to slap your cheeks and whisper, "Keep your shit together, Y/N."

“Y/N! Your friend is here!” Your mother called up the stairs.

Your pulse skittered. _Stupid, stupid,_ you chided yourself as you fluffed your hair in the mirror, checked your lipstick, batted your carefully-painted eyelashes. _I thought I just told you to keep your shit together._

“Coming!” You called back, your voice oddly high-pitched. Like a young girl, you rushed out of your room, snatching up your purse and flying down the stairs, hoping you didn’t look as stupid as you feared you did, because, really, who were you fooling? It wasn't just any boy's opinion of you that mattered here. It was Chanyeol's.

You came to a jagged halt at the bottom of the stares, stopping and gaping at the sight of your friend in his grey suit.

 _How could any one person be allowed to be so good-looking?_ You were suing. You were opened your mouth to say something-- perhaps even that-- and that was when he saw you.

His eyes widened for a mere half a second before a neutral expression wiped over his face and he nodded. “Looks nice on you, Y/N,” he said.

Okay, now your heart really hurt, and not in a good way. You hadn’t necessarily been _expecting_ things to play out like in the movies—like when he saw you, he’d gasp and proclaim his undying love—but seriously, couldn’t a girl get a little more than ‘looks nice on you’?? You weren't a goddamn troll.

Your mother was standing with him in the foyer, and she clapped her hands at the sight of the two of you. “You two!! My kids!” Fondly, she adjusted Chanyeol’s tie. “You look extremely handsome,” she informed him, and he blushed. Even though the two of you had been friends only for a few years, your mother had always acted like you'd been friends since birth. Sometimes you thought she liked Chanyeol even more than you did. Often times, she even said she thought of him as— “Like the son I never had!”

You cringed. You really, really weren’t a fan of your mother grouping you and Chanyeol together like you were siblings. _Really._

“You ready to go?” You hoped you sounded confident. To your own ears, you sounded like a confused frog.

Chanyeol looked like he was about to nod, but your mother cut him off.

“Not! Yet! Not until I have pictures!” She insisted, and she started patting all of her pockets for her phone. Cursing, she excused herself to go fetch the missing item from the kitchen, rushing out at a speed you hadn’t seen her achieve in years.

You turned to him instantly, shoving thoughts about how hot he was out of your mind forcibly as you got down to business. _Focus, Y/N._ "Do _not_ hurt anyone tonight," you said sharply, pointing a finger at him. "And leave Justin alone."

Chanyeol scowled. "I'll leave Justin alone if he leaves you alone," he said flatly. His eyes raked over you, plainly, clearly, and your jaw almost dropped. You weren't sure if he was surveying you as if you were an interesting type of bug or if he was checking you out. His eyes lingered on the tight bodice of your dress, and he scowled even more. Without another word, he started to shrug his jacket off. He looked away from you as he held it out. "You need to wear this," he said.

You stared at him. _Even for you, Chanyeol, this is..._ "Excuse me?" Was he slut-shaming you or being over-protective? "Are you ser--"

He looked over at you with serious eyes, and you tensed a bit. You'd never seen Chanyeol's death-beam eyes up close before, and shit, man, they really _were_ scary. Still, you didn't want to relent.

"I happen to think I look fine," you said, and you crossed your arms.

He rolled his dark eyes. "You look more than fine. That's the goddamn problem." He waved the jacket in front of your face. "Put this on. I can't believe your mother is letting you out of the house like that. If you were my daughter, I'd have you tied up in your bedroom."

You felt your face flush bright scarlet, and your heart skipped about ten more skips than was healthy. But that suggestive statement wasn't enough to detain you.

"Chanyeol, I like this dress. I'm not covering it up with your jacket. Besides, you look better in it than I would, any day." You hoped he wouldn't read to much into the compliment. Hurriedly, you rushed on. "And I don't see what the problem is. I wear bikinis all summer long. I don't see you covering me then."

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows and didn't say anything for a moment. "I've never seen you in a bikini," is what he said, finally, just as your mother returned to the room.

“Got it!” She brandished her phone like a weapon, and started barking orders like a drill sergeant. There was no more time for arguing, so Chanyeol slipped his jacket back on with a look to you that clearly said _this is not over._ Whatever. You wanted to be angrier, but now all you could think about was the sound of his deep voice saying, _I'd have you tied up in your bedroom._

It occurred to you, later, in his car, that you would have to live the rest of your life knowing that _that's_ what you were thinking about in your prom photos.

_Fantastic._

By Chanyeol's standard, things were going well. I mean, sure, he kept shoving you behind him whenever anyone stared too long at you (even if they were talking to you), and he only let females approach you, and he threatened to rip a kid's arm off and shove it up his ass when he'd accidentally brushed your butt with his palm, but other than that, things were great.

The music was atrocious, but what could you do? You just weren't into what they played at school dances. Still, you found yourself enjoying the rhythms for what they were and laughing, dancing with the girls in your grade and having a great time. After a half hour of you dancing, Chanyeol seemed to relax too. He swept in, taking you from the girls with a lithe grace that you knew you had to be born with.

"Dance with me?"

It meant so much to you that he'd asked that you'd only been able to nod breathlessly.

And the two of you had danced.

You didn’t know how long you danced with him. You knew that, as more and more songs passed, the two of your bodies got closer and closer together, and your mind was saying, s _tupid, stupid_ over and over again at your hammering heart.

At one point, the song changed to one you actually knew, a song about sex. You felt your face heat up, and you peeked up at Chanyeol to see if he'd noticed the subject, and he caught you. He'd smirked, and it looked like he was about to say something when--

"Y/N?"

Oh Lord no. Please, no. God. No.

You whipped around. Justin was there, smiling innocently, holding the hand of a cute girl from your English class.

"H-Hi, Justin," you stammered. _Please don't hit him. Please don't hit him._ You were hoping your telepathic mind-powers would kick in any second now. "You two look cute!"

Justin nodded with a little smile on his face, and the girl beamed. "I'm his little sister! I begged him to take me so I could come. I'm a junior so I couldn't get in unless--"

"Cath," Justin said, and she stopped rambling.

You could _feel_ how tense Chanyeol was beside you. You tried to send Justin a message with your eyes. _Don't do it. Hoe don't do it._

"You look really pretty, Y/N."

_Oohhhhh my god._

You intercepted Chanyeol before he could step forward. Your hand like a vice on his arm, you said, "Thanks so much, Justin. We were actually just gonna go get some drinks, so we'll see you around, okay?"

And without another word, you dragged Chanyeol away from the boy. You walked as fast as your dress would allow, your heart hammering angrily in your chest as you felt your cheeks heat with indignant rage. You led Chanyeol right past the drink table, past a whole squadron of staring couples, and right out of the back door. You turned around and planted your hands on your hips, your face twisted into a scowl. You waited for him to say something, to say anything, but he just stared at you.

That just made you madder.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?" You said, keeping your voice down so that the dancers inside couldn't hear you. You tried not to notice the way his hair was curling slightly at the nape of his neck, that the cool air was brushing your own hair against the warm skin of your shoulders like a caress...

He was silent. You clenched your jaw.

"Chanyeol, say s--"

"You're really, truly gorgeous, you know," he said finally, his eyes flickering away from you. Your angry heart spluttered, taking a few shuddering beats before tripping over itself and coming to a clumsy halt. You noticed, almost in a daze, that he seemed to be _blushing._

"Chanyeol, what...?" It was amazing how your voice had gone from rough and demanding to timid and soft just like that.

He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” He turned away, not looking you in the eye. You squeezed your eyes shut. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._ All you'd wanted was one night with your best friend. Without him ruining everything.

"Why do you _always_ do this?" You demanded, your words spat from your mouth. You planted your feet on the ground. "Why do you always ruin everything? _Everything?"_ You felt a fire burning in your chest, the rage was back, and you were afraid if you didn't leave him then, you would say something you'd regret. You clenched your jaw again. "Good _bye_ , Chanyeol," you said to his silence, and then you went to go back into your prom.

But his hand caught your arm. "Y/N, please. Please come with me."

His voice gave you pause. He was pleading you. _Don't fucking fall for it,_ you told yourself, but... you were totally falling for it.

"Give me one good reason," you said softly, still facing away from him. "This is my senior prom. My _senior pr--"_

"If you come with me, I'll never do this again." The words were forced, but you heard them. "I'll stop beating boys up for talking to you. And looking at you. And..."

And that was more than enough for you. Without a second glance at the auditorium, you were gone, walking to Chanyeol's car.

Senior prom was overrated, anyway.

Chanyeol's room was clean and plain, adorned only with posters of his favorite musicians. There was a guitar in the corner, that you knew he could play, very well for that matter. You sat on his bed in your dress and tried to focus on his posters as he started to take off his jacket. You forced yourself not to get distracted by how hot he looked, removing articles of his clothing… _Focus, Y/N. Focus. Stay angry. You deserve an explanation! Or at least an apology._

"Chanyeol--"

"Shut up." He said it lightly, but you closed your mouth automatically, your stomach turning. "Just shut up. Do you have any idea the effect you have of boys, Y/N? _Any damn idea?"_

He whirled around, his eyes burning at you. You kept yourself from shivering. For the first time, you saw it: Park Chanyeol was, indeed, scary as hell.

"I didn't think I had any particular..." You trailed off at the look on his face.

You saw a muscle work in his jaw. "You want to know the kind of effect you have, Y/N?" He asked, his voice deadly quiet, steady but lined with danger, electricity, ready to explode. You couldn't move. He took that as a 'yes.' "You're a defibrillator to the chest. A punch to the gut. You hit every single boy you meet, all without ever having to throw a punch." You were shaking. You saw his eyes flash as he noticed, but he didn't stop. "Looking at you is porn. Your eyes, your lips, your _body_ \--" He broke off, looking away from you. "I've told you a million times that you're beautiful, but that's not entirely true. You're beautiful, yeah, but what you really are is so. Damn. Sexy. And it's not fucking fair."

You were fairly certain you were about to have a heart attack. He didn't stop.

"Every damn thing you do turns me on," Chanyeol said. Your heart squeezed. _Me. He said 'me.'_ It was a mistake, it had to be, but he kept going... "Every little gasp when you figure something out when you're doing your homework. Every sigh when you yawn. Every time you arch your fucking back to stretch during class." You didn't remember him moving closer to you, but now he was right in front of you. "It's like you know _exactly_ how to get me going," he breathed. You closed your eyes, afraid to look at him. Afraid that looking at him would make the dream break, and you would wake up. "All that from a girl who's never been kissed."

At that, your eyes shot open. Despite the two of you being best friends, you never really talked about that stuff, mostly because you felt like you’d have to be put on suicide watch if you had to listen to Chanyeol talk about kissing other girls.

“You don’t know that,” you muttered sullenly, crossing your arms, forgetting the heat of the conversation for a moment in your petulance.

Out of nowhere, you felt his hand on your chin, turning your head so you had to meet his eyes. They burned into you. “Don’t I?” He breathed, and he came in close to you, closer, closer, his eyes almost entirely taken over by some sort of animal instinct to possess, protect, claim. Your eyes fluttered closed, and even though you’d been hoping for it, you still felt the sharp, not unpleasant pangs of shock as his lips brushed yours.

You melted, exploded, died—you were sure of it—but if dying felt this good, you no longer had sympathy for the martyrs. Chanyeol’s lips were smooth and warm. Before you could miss your chance, you threaded your fingers in his hair to find that it was even softer than you’d imagined. Your heart had never beat so hard, so fast, and you worried for a brief second that you would pass out, but then Chanyeol bit your lip and everything else vanished from your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered against your mouth. You closed your eyes shut and whimpered. “Y/N—” His breathing was ragged. “Make me stop.”

But even as he said that, he was pulling you closer, kissing you again and harder this time, grabbing onto you tight like you would disappear if he let go.

“You're too good for me,” he mumbled against your lips between kisses. “I’m terrible for you. We shouldn’t…”

You didn’t care if you shouldn’t. You _would._ To show him, you yanked his shirt up, untucking it and sliding your hands up his chest. He groaned.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he said breathlessly. You kissed him again, not even thinking about your inexperience, not thinking about anything but the fact that you wanted this so goddamn much, and if he made you stop, you would die. “Y/N,” he groaned against your mouth, “you don’t want this, please.”

You shook your head and pulled back, mumbling, “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.” To prove it, you took the hem of your dress in your hands and lifted it over your head, exposing your bra and your bare sex.

He inhaled.

“Fuck me, Chanyeol,” you pleaded, your voice low as you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. “Fuck me, Chanyeol, please.”

He seemed to lose the last of his inhibitions as your bra came off. In fact, he seemed to transform into an entirely different person.

He was on you, on top of you, pinning you down as his hands searched your body and his mouth attacked your neck. He growled against your skin. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kill that guy,” he said, and you shivered. There was something wrong with you that you found that sexy. There was something really wrong with— “Your first kiss belongs to me,” he said, his words sharp and irrefutable as he cupped your breasts and you made a keening noise. “Your virginity belongs to me.” He moved his mouth down in a trail of kisses down your collarbone, and then his mouth was on your breast, and you were whimpering. “You belong to me.”

 _Holy. Shit._ You moaned.

He laughed once against your skin and then pulled away, looking up at you with the most vulgar expression. “You like it when I talk like that?” That wolf’s smirk was back again. Breathless, you nodded. You felt like you were on fire; your body was begging to be touched. You had to be dreaming.

Chanyeol bit softly at your breast, and you shouted, forgetting that you weren't in the middle of nowhere, forgetting that it was late, forgetting that you would wake his neighbors up. Holy _shit_. “Ask me nicely to talk dirty to you,” he said roughly. His mouth was unreal against your breast, and before you could start to seriously wonder if you were going to orgasm from him sucking on you alone, he switched to the other one, twisting your free nipple in his hand as you cooed.

“Beg me, Y/N,” he growled.

You weren’t sure if he was really serious—he sure sounded serious—but you couldn’t bear to wait any longer for _more._ “Talk dirty to me,” you gasped, your hands gripping onto his arms as you ground against his pelvis. He grunted. “Tell me I’m yours. Tell me who I belong to.”

He bit you again, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming. If someone complained, they would stop you from doing this, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get a chance to fuck Chanyeol again.

“You’re mine, baby,” he rasped, and suddenly his mouth was gone from you. You opened your eyes—you didn’t remember closing them—to see him removing his tie with the sexiest expression imaginable on his face. He had no idea how hot he was, did he? Or maybe he did… You went to reach for him but he shook his head. “Don’t move. You look so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N. I could fucking look at you forever.” His tie slid away. “But I’m gonna show you who you belong to. Gonna come all over your tits and have you lick it up. Gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.” You were panting by the time he took his shirt off. Where had he learned to talk like this? You were about to scream. He grabbed your arms, pulling you up to meet him, where you could feel his hard-on and look him in the eye. “I want to fuck you so hard that I’m all that you can think about, and you can’t look your mother in the eye for the next three months.”

 _Jesus Christ._ Chanyeol had always been hot, and you’d always imagined he’d have a thing for dirty talk, what with his jealous tendencies, but this was on another level— and _you loved it._

You fumbled with his pants buttons, wanting him _out of them already_ , and he nuzzled into your neck, still saying filthy things that just made it more and more difficult for you to function effectively.

“You even know how long I’ve wanted you?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest; the sound was irresistible. “You know how many times I’ve wanted to bend you over and fuck you when you’ve come over to do homework? Fuck you on every damn piece of furniture I own?” You were _shaking_ . You finally got his pants undone, and he helped you slide them down. Your heart beat faster and faster. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me, Y/N,” he groaned, and he kicked off his pants so that it was just you, naked, and him in his boxers. Your face flushed with anticipation. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back against him again. “You’re mine,” he whispered, and something in the changed tone of it made you shudder with pleasure. _Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours,_ you wanted to say, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. “Every time you fuck, you fuck _me._ Understood?” Desperately, you nodded. It felt like you were in your own world of two—there was nothing outside of this room, nothing outside of what was finally happening between the two of you. Chanyeol’s hands grabbed onto your ass and squeezed, and oh God, it felt so much better than you'd ever thought it could've, it was almost comical. But you weren’t laughing. He looked you dead in the eye, and he said, “No one else will ever touch you, do you understand me? Only I get to touch you like this.”

“Yes, yes, _yes,_ ” You meant it; you could only hope he did. “Chanyeol, _please,_ fuck me.”

And he did. You didn’t know if you took off his boxers or if he did, but he was bare and you were staring and you were so so so ready. He chuckled at the needy expression on your face and laid you down, leaning over you with that beautiful goddamn body that almost made you cry. You closed your eyes at his touch, so soft compared to his rough words and voice.

“Y/N, baby, I love you,” he whispered.

You let out the sweetest sigh. Who knew if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment—you deserved to be happy, and you would believe him, if only just for tonight. _He loves me._

“I love you, Chanyeol,” you murmured, and you brought him down to you. “Please.”

“It might hurt,” he said softly, tracing shapes on the skin of your sides. You could feel him hard against your entrance, and you inhaled. Your entire body was throbbing with want.

“I don’t care,” you managed to say. “Please—”

And he was inside you.

You gasped, clawing at his back in shock, the pain unbelievable for half a second before fading to pleasure. Your ears were buzzing, but you could hear him saying, “I thought it would be better if we just got it all in at once.”

You laughed. There was your Chanyeol. You kissed at his shoulder and smiled up at him. “I’m good,” you murmured, and then you smirked. “You gonna show me what you were talking about?”

He made a noise like a growl. “Wipe that smirk off your face, little girl,” he said, and he kissed the skin behind your ear, his lips a whisper as his body throbbed in yours. He kissed the same spot again before whispering, in an almost uncertain voice, “Are you sure this is okay?”

You really loved him, but you were going to kill him. “For God’s sake, _yes_ ,” you said, and that was the last confirmation he needed.

You let out a loud whimper as he started to fuck you, his body entrancing yours, moving yours, destroying all of your inhibitions and aptitude for shyness, helping you move along with him without feeling anxious or awkward. You clutched onto his back, staring up at him, hardly believing that this was happening after so long, that you were finally getting this, that he liked you enough to fuck you. For _years_ you’d been telling yourself that he was too good for you, too far out of your league, but _he_ certainly didn’t seem to think so.

“You’re—so—tight,” he grunted as your bodies moved together, and you felt a virginal blush flush on your cheeks. His eyes met yours as you blushed and bit your lip and he grinned, his body movements never ceasing. You threw your head back. Maybe the most unbelievable thing of all was _how good it felt._

Even though you’d definitely had _plenty_ of sexual thoughts about Chanyeol before, you’d never imagined in a million years that sex could feel so good, with anybody. You’d figured it was overhyped, but Jesus Christ, this was—

“Don’t stop,” you panted, your nails digging into his back without your cognizance. You had no concept of what your body was doing, only what it was feeling—you felt like you were on fire, but you wanted to burn to death. You could feel him slam against your clit with every thrust—he clearly knew what he was doing—and just as you were about to get yourself worked up over the fact that he’d definitely had sex before, he hit your g-spot.

You screamed, your back arching as you shot up to him, clutching onto his chest as he kept going, hitting the spot over and over again. “Oh my God—oh my GOD—” A dizzying haze was approaching, and you knew if he kept at it, you would climax. Just as you started to claw into him, just as you knew you were about to come—he pulled out.

You whined, grabbing for him as he laughed and looked down at you with mischievous eyes.

“That,” he said, his voice low, “was for flirting with that guy.”

You could still feel your climax waiting, building up but unable to break through. You reached for him, but he shook his head, grabbing your hands. With a crooked smirk, he pulled you to him.

“I _wasn't_ ,” you whined, but he shook his head again. "I'm sorry?" You tried.

“No you’re not,” he said, his eyes flashing, “but you will be.”

With a burning look, he laid down, his arms behind his head. “You ever give someone head before?”

The blush was back, fire-red, but you could hardly focus on it because you were still seeking that release. You murmured a desperate ‘no.’

“Well, you’re doing it tonight,” he said, and your heart flip-flopped at his cocky tone of voice, so wrong but so absoutely right. You looked over at his dick, thinking about how it had felt inside of you, thinking about how you’d always been disgusted by the idea of blow jobs but how, now, it had you squeezing your legs together in a strange anticipation.

You looked away. “I don’t know how,” you muttered, your cheeks red.

You felt his hand smooth of your hip. That touch alone sent your gut lurching. “I’ll tell you how.”

His voice was a sin. A low, grumbling sin, so persuasive in the unlit bedroom. Maybe that was why, without another word, you scooted closer to him and looked up at his face, expectantly—and then, before he could say anything, you went for it, taking him into your mouth with a determination to do a good job so he would forgive you.

He groaned. “Jesus _Christ,_ Y/N,” he said, and you released him with an obscene pop. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He just said, “ _No.”_

You took that as a good sign. You took him back in your mouth again, and you felt his hand on the back of your head, lightly guiding you. You took his probing and started bobbing your head up and down his shaft. At that, he groaned again, louder this time. It gave you some satisfaction to know that you weren’t the only one out of control. And that satisfaction gave you the confidence to keep going.

You reached for him, handling the parts you couldn’t take into your mouth with your hands, squeezing your legs together as you did it because holy shit, giving head was _hot_. Chanyeol definitely seemed to agree.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” He asked you, sounding winded.

You hummed a response around him, and to your surprise he sucked in a breath and grunted.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice a deep scratch as he guided your head back from him and sat up.

“Did I do something wr—”

“No, _no._ Stop asking that,” he said. “You’re doing everything right. I forgive you for flirting with Justin, okay?”

 _Good._ You reached for him, ready to pick up where you’d left off, but he grabbed your hand again, this time lacing his fingers through yours.

“Not so fast,” he said. “You still need to make up for teasing me for four fucking years.”

 _I wasn't teasing,_ you wanted to say, but you knew better than to argue. With a devil’s smile, he came over you, gently pushing you back down onto the mattress. “Be a good girl and stay quiet,” he warned as he made his way down to your hips.

What was he—?

“If you scream,” he continued, looking up at you as he spread your legs, “I won’t forgive you. And you won’t get to come."

You didn’t get a chance to say you understood. Before you could process what was happening, his head was between your legs, his tongue seeking your entrance, licking the slit of your core and making you shove your fist in your mouth to keep from doing exactly what he’d asked you not to do. You couldn’t afford for him not to forgive you, damn it, you needed to come.

He didn’t stop. His fingers quickly found your clit, and you yelped and bit into your fist as he stroked small, light circles around it, with just enough pressure to feel astounding but not enough to give you some relief. _He really, really knows what he’s doing._

You let go of your fist when you realized you tasted blood, whimpering as he started to tongue-fuck you.

“Chanyeol, please,” you begged. “Please— _more_ —”

He gave you more. His fingers were suddenly giving you the right kind of pressure, no longer skirting around your clit either but paying it the attention it needed. Instinctively, your hands shot to his head, your fingers threading in his hair. You could’ve sworn you almost felt him smirk against you, but the thought was gone as he moved his head back and switched to finger-fucking you, his long fingers seeking out the magical spot he’d found earlier.

You were pretty sure the entire neighborhood could tell when he found it, you yelled so loud.

Instantly, he pulled back from you, either because you were about to come or because you’d disobeyed him, or both.

“What did I say about yelling?” He grinned at you.

Your core was begging you for a climax. “I didn’t mean to—” You were desperate.

Surprising you as always, Chanyeol kissed your forehead and said, “How can I be mad at you?” With a dashing expression on his face. He kissed the tip of your nose and added, “I forgive you. I forgive you anything.”

You felt all of your muscles clench. “Prove it,” you said. He laughed and bent his head down to kiss you, his hands grabbing onto your sides and holding you down as your mouths met, as he kissed you like he’d never have to chance to kiss anyone ever again.

“You know why I was so mad?” He mumbled against your lips. “Because I’ve been wanting you for years.”

You felt the head of his erection pressing at your clit and shivered. “Been wanting you too,” you admitted.

Chanyeol smiled down at you one last time and then kissed you once before sliding into you again.

It felt even better than earlier. You’d thought that that had felt amazing, but you were wrong— _this_ was what amazing felt like. You could hear the sounds of flesh hitting, the grunts he made and the whimpers that came out of you despite your clenched jaw. Your pussy was begging, pleading, so damn needy for climax and he was giving it to you, fucking you like he’d been telling the truth, like he really had been waiting to fuck you for years.

You moaned at the thought, and you felt him clutch extra hard onto your sides in response, as if he wanted proof that you were really there.

And that’s what did you in. Finally, you were breaking, exploding, a firework in the ink sky, vivid passion red, shimmering and pulsating and—and—oh fuck it, it felt _so good_ , and he was coming too, his seed flooding inside of you, his groans loud and long, his arms wrapping around you.

The two of you lay like that for a minute or two afterwards. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but it was long enough for you to realize, _holy shit I just fucked my best friend._

 _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, he regrets it. Or I was terrible. Or he regrets it because I was terrible._

_Holy shit, what if I’ve ruined everything we’ve ever—_

“Y/N.” His voice was musical but muffled, mouth pressed against the crook of your neck. “Stop overthinking.”

You closed your eyes, a small smile on your face. He really was your best friend, after all. Of course he knew you’d panic.

He shifted a bit, so he was laying on his side with you, looking into your eyes as you shifted to your side as well. You stared at him, waiting for him to say something to stop you from worrying, to stop you from thinking this was all a big mistake. He didn’t let you down.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he said softly, his eyes tracing your body. You didn’t know what to say, because it was obvious you’d been in love with him as well—you’d said so. His eyes left your body and returned to yours, meeting your gaze.

“I’ve loved you longer,” you said. “I’ve loved everything about you for as long as I can remember. Except for maybe your jealous side.”

You were teasing, but you’d never seen Chanyeol smirk so knowingly. With a hot smile, he leaned in, his breath on your lips as he growled, “If being jealous gets me this everytime, you better get used to it.”

You hit his arm. "You acting like a caveman does not turn me on."

"Does too."

"Does _not!"_ He said nothing. "Okay, well, maybe it does a little bit," You admitted.

You heard him laugh softly, and he pulled you against him. You could feel his smile against your skin. "I lied, by the way," he said. Your heart stammered a bit. "To get you to come here. There's no way I'm stopping beating those guys up. Especially now that you're mine."

You burst into laughter.

Of course he wasn't stopping. Park Chanyeol had a growl to be reckoned with.

 


End file.
